La Promesa de la Princesa
by Royal Typewriter
Summary: A prince, I promise you. A prince.
1. Prologue

Ofelia: You'll see, when she smiles, you'll love her

**I don't own Ofelia, Pan, or anyone else in this story (God, I wish I did). But they all belong to the amazing Guillermo Del Toro. **

**I do own her brother's personality, if that works. **

Ofelia: You'll see, when she smiles, you'll love her. Listen, if you do what I say, I'll make you a promise. I'll take you to my kingdom and I'll make you a prince. I promise you, a prince.  
-Pan's Labyrinth

La Promesa de la Princesa 

(Prologue.)

He still knows nothing of his father, aside from the snatches he's heard from conversations when Mercedes thinks he isn't listening. It isn't much; they hardly ever mention him. When they do, it's not happily. He gathers that his father must have done something very wrong.

He has no idea he once had a sister, and that she chose death over having him harmed—even for a second. Mercedes has forbidden anyone to tell him.

He especially never heard anything about how he came to be with her. He knows she is not his mother, because she has told him that.

All he really knows about everything else is that he shouldn't ask. It isn't as though he'd remember anyway. The only thing he can recall is the flower that keeps appearing in his dreams, protected by deadly thorns. He once heard that the flower promised immortality to anyone who was brave enough to come up the mountain it was on and risk the poison of its barbs, but no one dared. No one bothered considering the greatness of such an idea when such danger came with it. And so, its miraculous gift remained unattainable.

He has no recollection of where he heard that fairy-tale. Mercedes never told it to him. None of the rebels know any stories about flowers. It is his first memory, and his most recurrent dream. And every time, just before he wakes up, he hears, so faintly it took him several nights before he could determine what it says:

"A prince. I promise you, a prince."

**It's short, yes, but it has a point. It's going somewhere. **


	2. Play

"Mateo, you don't have to get it all at once!" Mercedes, exasperated, called from the open door. All she'd asked for was more firewood; she hadn't expected him to try and chop up the whole tree. Patient like his mother, with a drive like his father—possibly the only redeeming quality Vidal had had in his genes. She was grateful every day that he'd inherited his mother's personality in favor of that awful captain's. He had a bit of temper on him, she reasoned, but so had Ofelia and his mother. Besides, he was sweet—she glanced at him again—and sane.

After giving it a few more determined strikes, Mateo dropped his axe. Once he'd taken a moment to breathe, he made a valiant attempt to pick up every single bit of wood he'd just cut.

"That boy!" Mercedes set down the tortillas she was making and sighed. Why couldn't he get suddenly get tired when he was asked to do chores like other twelve-year-olds? Even Pedro never bothered getting more wood than he had to.

Not a moment later, Mateo was nudging the door open with his shoulders and backing into the room. The pile he was carrying covered his body from the waist up, and threatened to fall at any second.

"I got it, Mercedes!" she could hear how proud of himself he was, even from behind a three-foot wall of timber and couldn't help smiling. He'd been eager to be allowed to use the axe for years, and once she'd finally let him, he jumped at every chance.

"Where will you put it?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. "I only needed a little, but I see you've brought in enough to build a whole new house." There was a pause, and what she could see of his legs shifted slightly.

"I didn't really think that far ahead," he answered sheepishly. Mercedes took a few steps back as he mused, "Maybe I could—ahhh!"

The whole pile tumbled from his outstretched arms, and he had to hop around them as fast as he could to avoid getting himself crushed. A few rolled off haphazardly, and he scrambled to stop them before tripping over one.

"Now we might need that new house," Mercedes teased lightly, coming back to help him get up. Mateo looked up at her sadly.

"I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," she countered, brushing off his shirt. "You just got a little caught up. Look, thanks to you we have plenty of wood."

"All over the floor," he mumbled, moving to grab one.

"I'll clean it up," she offered, beating him to it. "Why don't you go find Pedro to play with you?" He hesitated, and she nudged him toward the door. "Go on, see if he wants to kick the ball around."

Mateo reluctantly stood up and made his way to the yard. He could see Pedro talking to his friends further up the road. Pedro would play with him if he asked him to, he knew, but he didn't want to bother him right now. He looked like he was having fun.

Turning, Mateo wandered through the gate to the garden, situating himself right in front of the vegetables Mercedes was growing. He slid down and put his elbows on his knees, observing the labeled poles. She wouldn't mind if he had one little carrot, he decided, reaching for the leaves.

_Look, this is a mandrake root. A plant that dreamt of being human._

"What?" Mateo withdrew his hand. Where had he heard that before? He'd kept Mercedes company while she was working back here, and had even been allowed to plant some of the seeds, and he'd never heard her mention any mandrakes. He shook his head and grabbed the top of the carrot again. It wouldn't move.

Mateo frowned. They were definitely ready to harvest, because Mercedes was using some of the tomatoes right now. It wasn't as though they'd just started growing. He tugged harder. It moved a tiny bit, but slipped right back down again. Something was pulling _his_ carrot!

"Let go!" he protested, though he had no idea what was down there. "I only…wanted…one!"

He gasped in shock as whatever it was let go and he toppled backwards. The carrot was intact, but that hardly mattered. Mateo crawled over and plunged his hand down the hole. There was definitely something moving around under all that dirt—he felt it! Why wouldn't it slow down?

Yanking his hand back, he rolled up his sleeve before trying again. If it was a bug, it was like none he'd ever encountered. Most bugs couldn't hold back an entire carrot.

There!

He closed his hand around the thin object and brought his whole forearm back to the surface. It was wiggling in his hands, but he was much too curious to just let go. He could see the spindly legs that weren't enclosed in his fist kicking wildly at the air, and his interest was piqued even more. Carefully, he opened his hand without leaving enough room for it to run away.

"A stick bug?" he ran his finger over its twiggy body. "How did you ever put up that big of a fight?" Mateo felt slightly disappointed—he'd been expecting some kind of freakish spider or maybe an grasshopper of epic proportions. Something _scary_, at least. He gently set the bug back down and was surprised to see it try to climb onto his shoe.

"No, you go back down now." He pried it off and once more put it where he'd found it. "Sorry to have bothered you."

Picking up his carrot, he rose. Pedro's friends were leaving now—maybe he would go ask him to play. The ball was right by the gate, so he picked it up on the way out, the bug already forgotten. He took off running down the entryway, calling Pedro, who greeted him with a friendly slap on the back.

The bug cocked its head to the side. A moment later, at an impressive speed, it hopped out of the hole the carrot had come out of and slipped under the gate. Mateo was so busy trying to block Pedro from kicking the ball past him that he didn't even notice it latch onto the back of his shirt.


	3. Pursuit

Mateo had _let_ Pedro win—at least, that's what he told Mercedes over the duration of their dinner. After that, he had gone straight up to his room, a rare occurrence, and flopped on his back onto the bed. He wondered where on earth rebels found the time to learn such ridiculous soccer skills, then shut his eyes, arms bent supporting his head. The quiet breeze signaling dusk was audible outside his half-open window, as well as some distant talking. A skittering sound echoed over the windowsill, but he paid it very little mind, as he was already half-asleep; it was probably just some stray leaf from the tree that stood not three feet away, anyway. Mateo shifted gently, and heard the noise again over his floorboards…like someone was drumming their fingernails on the ground as quickly and lightly as they could. He opened one eye and leaned enough over the edge of his bed so as to not have to actually move. Of course, there was nothing. He inwardly rolled his eyes and propped his head back onto the pillow.

"_Whoa_!" he shot backwards against his headboard after having come face-to-face with a pair of glassy, unfocused eyes. Whoever said stick bugs were harmless had obviously never gotten close enough to one—just the sight of it was enough to wake him up ten times over.

"You're not that same bug that was pulling on that carrot, are you?" he asked in disbelief. A second later, he sighed incredulously. Why did he keep talking to that thing as if it could answer him? All it did was make a soft whirring noise and cock its head to the side. It was, in fact, making that motion now as Mateo reorganized himself. He held out one hand, and the bug, in its awkward, jerky stride, settled itself in its palm. It curled up almost instantly and seemed to stretch out in all directions, while two of its limbs disappeared back into its body. It was all he could do not to flip his hand over and drop it when the stick bug ceased to be an insect at all.

"Wha—what—you're a…!" he could barely even remember the word for it as it stood up on its two remaining legs, arms and wings folded in indignance. He searched his mind in his state of bewilderment.

_Faerie._

By now, it was sitting patiently, cross-legged in his outstretched hand, watching his fingers with suspicion to be sure they didn't come curling unexpectedly. When it was evident that Mateo was somewhat calm, the being rose and hopped onto the windowsill with ease.

"Wait, where are you going?" he scrambled to unfold his covers and lope across the room. The faerie leaned back onto the glass and pointed towards the woods his room faced. When Mateo simply blinked, it repeated the gesture, this time more firmly.

"Is there something out there I'm supposed to see?"

The faerie shook its head, then reconsidered and nodded. Its wings jetted it upwards and over the sill, and it motioned towards the trees yet again.

"Right now?" Mateo seemed uncertain. "I'm not really allowed out once I tell Mercedes I've gone to bed, you know. I could get into trouble; she'd take away my soccer ball again."

The response he received consisted of a blank stare and arms thrown up in exasperation. When it flew towards the woods, circled back around and pointed again insistently, Mateo sighed in defeat.

"Fine, I'm coming. But if I get caught, you'd better stick around to prove I wasn't sneaking out or something." The faerie seemed to mull this over, but its reply was not a definite yes. Mateo figured he would give it the benefit of the doubt and eased the window up a few more inches. Following the faerie's lead, he extended one leg over and onto the foothold of the outside frame. It wasn't as though he hadn't done this before, after all. He let go of the window once he had regained all his balance, and landed in the grass with a soft thump. Brushing off his cotton pajama shirt, Mateo shook himself off and began walking into the general direction of the forest. He only hoped he wasn't sleepwalking—_that_ would be horrifically embarrassing. The faerie, now illuminated by some inner glow, guided him around bends and over rocks until he reached an area cast in total shadow. Even lit by the moon, he could not tell what it was just by looking. Mateo, now more intrigued than cynical, circled it until he reached a giant opening.

"What is it? Is it a cave?"

The glowing creature shook its head and zipped in a zigzag motion, watching the boy hopefully.

"A maze?" he guessed slowly, before snapping his fingers. "A labyrinth! That's what they're called, we learned about those in school! They're supposed to be so hard to get in and out of..."

When the faerie seemed to be gesturing for him to enter, Mateo took a generous step back.

"_Oh_, no, you must be crazy. I'd get lost and never be heard from again! Even if I did find my way out, Mercedes would kill me!"

The only sound he heard in response was the distant chirping of crickets. Gently, the faerie circled its arms around Mateo's fingertip and tugged.

"Are you sure I've got to go in there?" he asked weakly, already moving towards it. Before now, his surprise and awe at its monstrous size had distracted him from what should have been a very obvious sense of fear. For his age, he was bright, and knew enough about dark, secluded places to conclude that they were not someplace a twelve year old boy should be, alone, at night.

"I'm not _really_ alone, though," he mused, curiosity beginning to win him over. "You're here, right? And you know your way around this thing?" He held it up closer to the doorway, bricks cast into a slight blue light as he did so.

Eagerly, it nodded.

"Anything to get me to say yes, huh? All right then, let's go." He shuffled inside, dead leaves making gunshot sounds under his feet. He could feel the hedges that had grown erratically around it poking at his legs when he got too close, and tried not to imagine what kind of things might be living inside them. There were so many corners and bends; he had heard about mazes, of course, but being inside one was like being trapped inside the biggest, most twisted box. It seemed an eternity had passed by the time they stopped walking. They had reached a dead end, and Mateo was now thoroughly apprehensive. He began to back away, but when the faerie shone itself on some previously-hidden steps, he reconsidered.

"Where exactly do those go?"

By now, he had taken to talking to this strange being, for comfort more than anything. Though it did not seem to have the ability to communicate verbally, its body language and gestures were enough to bridge the language gap. At this time of night, standing near stairs that led into black nothing, Mateo was willing to take whatever he could get. He cradled the faerie in his hands and, taking a deep breath, began his descent.

At several points, he wondered out loud if he was walking straight down into Hell. He decided, after careful deliberation, that he must not be, simply because of how dark it was. Mercedes had mentioned flames, and lots of them. It wasn't adding up, so he dismissed that theory. Maybe the stairs just led to the _center_ of the Earth. That might not be so bad, unless he came up on the other side in the middle of the ocean. His imagination would gladly have expanded on that thought had the end of the steps not become visible at that moment.

Once he touched bottom, the faerie lightly escaped his grasp and seemed to dissolve into the black. Mateo felt himself panic. How on earth was he supposed to go back up those stairs and through the woods, home, safely? At all? He had no recollection of how he'd actually gotten there in terms of direction. Mateo was certain, more and more as a slight scraping sound coming from a far wall grew louder, that he was going to die here, in this cave, before he would even have a chance to regret coming. Backing away slowly, he allowed himself to look for the source of the noises, breath coming out in jerky gasps.

"_What are you_…?"

**For the record, this is, in fact, where the real story begins. I'm appalled with myself for how long it took to update this, but now I know where I want it to go. ******

**-Katie**


	4. Pan

"What am I?" a gravelly voice echoed, detaching itself from some dead foliage crowding its corner. "Don't you know a faun when you see one?"

"N-no," Mateo stammered, not quite sure which way to turn. "I-I c-can't really see you in this l-light…" he swallowed loudly, "and I've never seen a…a faun before."

The faerie had flown to the mysterious-looking entity and was now perched on its shoulder, watching with interest. The faun stretched itself out, and Mateo was gradually able to become accustomed enough to the dark to make out what it looked like. The best word he could think of was _creepy_. It wasn't horrifying, but there was something unnerving about those slate-colored eyes…the tangled beard and horns weren't helping much either. The faun drew closer and gave Mateo a once-over.

"Oh, most definitely," it said in that low-as-the-ground voice.

"Most definitely what?"

"What do they call you?" the faun asked curiously, as if the boy's question had never been uttered.

"I…well, m-my name's, uh, Mateo. That's what most people call me, anyway." He toed the ground lightly and tried to regulate his breathing. This creature didn't look malicious or anything…in fact, once you got used to him, he was more interesting than sinister. Mateo hadn't quite reached that point yet, but he was getting there. "And…and you?"

"I have many names," it sighed in a strange tone. "Over the years, I have acquired a number of them, the majority of which only the trees can pronounce. You, however…you may call me Pan."

"Pan." Mateo breathed softly. "And this is your labyrinth?"

"I have been here for quite some time, yes." Pan gestured to his corner. "That is my resting place, and for several years it has been fairly tranquil." He leaned closer, horns becoming more visible. "But that had to end."

"Why?" Mateo suddenly feared he was trespassing, eyes glued on Pan's horns. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

It took him a moment to register the strange sound emitting from the faun afterwards as laughter, as it was so low he could hardly hear it.

"I am the one who arranged for you to _be_ here," Pan said, circling the floor of the enclosure slowly. "It's time you knew."

"Knew…what?"

"They've kept a lot from you, haven't they?" Pan rested his cheek on one arm. "I never imagined you would be this in the dark, not with so many other mortals around you who know what occurred…"

"Wait, what? Did something bad happen?" Mateo, by now, had relocated to a large rock in the middle of the floor. He was sitting on one edge, legs crossed, now more eager to hear the story than afraid of the faun. "Would you tell me?"

"It is a long story." Pan regarded him with some amusement.

"I want to know what happened," the boy pressed. "Did something happen to me? Is something _going_ to?"

"Centuries ago," the gravelly voice began, "there was a beautiful princess, a princess of the Underworld. Her name was Moanna, and she was her father's pride and joy—until, of course, the day her curiosity got the better of her. You see, she had never seen the sun, nor known light. Unbeknownst to those keeping watch over her, she slipped away and climbed the stairs to your world, coming into contact with the sun for the first time."

"What does a fairy tale have to do with me?" Thoroughly confused, Mateo was unable to make any sort of connection. He knew it was probably best not to actually argue with the massive faun speaking to him, but his perplexity was growing with every word. He had the right to ask, anyway, didn't he?

"But," Pan continued, "she was a princess of the _Underworld_, and she was blinded by its rays, forgetting instantly who she was and where she came from…she joined your world as a mortal, with no way of returning."

At this, an audible sigh had escaped his mouth. "No way."

"So she's here now?"

"She was." Pan gave him a pointed look. "Twelve years ago this night, I was having a conversation of this magnitude with Moanna herself—Ofelia, as she was called by your people. Of course, she had no recollection whatsoever of who she was—but such a sweet girl. Right in the midst of a war, and she had no place to be. Knowing that despicable captain she had to endure living with, it was a miracle she had made it that far. That was my one chance, my chance to bring her back to us."

By now, Mateo was riveted, sitting fully on the edge of the rock. "What happened next?"

"She was given three tasks," Pan replied, holding up his fingers. "Three very difficult, very dangerous tasks, to prove she was worthy of returning to her kingdom instead of remaining here, with those who would harm her." A ghost of a smile seemed to appear on his face as he said, "Naturally, she failed the second miserably. It was hard to blame her, but I knew what I needed to do. After much deliberation, it became evident that she _had_ to have one more chance."

"Did she fail that chance?"

"_No_," Pan breathed softly. "No, on the surface it may have seemed as though she did. She did not do as she was told; but you see, Mateo, that _was_ the test. Hearing how fervently she denied me my request, knowing this would mean forfeiting ever returning to the Underworld as a princess…what a bittersweet ending."

"Ending?"

"Joyous, of course, because this meant our Moanna could finally come home; but in order for that to take place, she had to die." Pan gazed at an indefinite spot on the wall behind Mateo, expression thoughtful. "It was all I could do not to kill the man who was responsible for that."

"Who was that? What happened?" Mateo was positively vibrating with anxious excitement. He was getting the feeling that this story pertained to him in a very significant way, though he had no way of placing exactly how.

"This is where you come in," Pan's rough voice interjected. "Ofelia was on a quest to find out who she was. Tonight, I am placing you on the same one. All too soon, the true story will become clear for you." He cocked his head to the side. "That is, if _you_ can successfully complete the tasks I am going to give you."

"Are they dangerous?" Mateo tried not to let himself stammer, but after hearing how someone else had gone so far as to be killed, it was difficult.

"It depends on how loosely you define the term 'dangerous'." Pan released his faerie, which now hovered protectively near the boy. "Your first will not be. Progressively, they will become more so."

"How many am I to do, before…?"

"Three tasks are all that is necessary for you to know what you need to." Pan paused, looking amused. "After the first, you'll find that you have acquired something to help you along the way."

"Tell me what I need to do," Mateo breathlessly answered. "I need to know what happens."

"Very well," Pan rumbled, pointing to the stairs. "Up those stairs, through that forest, my faerie will show you the way. There is a book to be found, but you must dig for it, for it has been hidden. That book is essential to your journey, and finding it is not so difficult that you cannot get back to your home on time. If you go now, you will have sufficient time to obtain it and return to your bed before you are missed."

"What happens after I find it?"

"You open it, of course." The blatant shock in Pan's voice was almost humorous. "What else would you do with it?"

"That's not what I meant," Mateo said hastily. "I meant, what happens next? Do I need to come find you again?"

"Within the next three nights, I will once again send my faerie to fetch you. When it comes to you, you come to me. Bring your book, understood?"

"Yes, of course." Mateo rose from his rock, now uncertain as to whether or not he was capable of accomplishing what this faun expected of him. To be honest, he was afraid to find out what would happen if _he_ failed. He decided it best not to ask about that.

"Mateo, one last thing." Pan held one arm out, as if to signal him not to depart yet. "Under no circumstances should you let that book be taken from you. Better yet, do not even let it be seen. Keep it to yourself."

"Okay, Pan." The full moon was streaming at such an angle through the slanted tunnel as to illuminate Mateo's silhouette. His soft curls seemed to glow with moonshine as he turned to leave. Suddenly, he wheeled back around. "But what if—?"

Silence. Aside from the faerie flitting right next to him, he was alone. He tried in vain to search for Pan, but all he could see was a slightly rustling patch of dead vines in the corner.

"How does he do that?" he mused. The faerie shrugged and settled cross-legged onto his shoulder. "I guess we'd better go find that book, then."

The climb back to real ground was less nerve-wracking than the descent, but Mateo was still happy for the companionship of the small creature sitting on him. Once he reached the expanse of trees he had come from, he glanced around.

"You need to lead the way now, okay?" he said softly to the faerie. "I need to know exactly where to go, and Pan said you were the one to show me." Obediently, it rose, gave the surrounding a quick once-over, then lit up and flew closer to the direction they had originally left from. Mateo followed closely, checking every tree they passed.

After about ten minutes, they stopped. The faerie gently floated downward and came to rest on a gathering of fallen leaves.

"Here?" Mateo brushed some of them away, and then frowned. The dirt was hard, and would most likely not come loose very easily. He tried kicking at it, and scraping with a stick. That yielded him some form of results, so he kept at it. Once enough earth had been removed, he abandoned the branch and began scooping with his hands. There were sharp rocks inside the sediment, but he ignored their constant attack on his arms. The faerie was kneeling at the top of the hole he was making, silently cheering him on. Mateo's breathing was becoming more labored as he dug deeper, finally reaching something that did not feel like the dirt he had been going at for the past however long.

"Hey, maybe this is it." He rolled up his sleeve and reached one arm all the way inside, feeling for the outline of a book. "I think it is!" His eyes lit up, and he tugged it from where it was resting. After some effort, he swung his arm up and produced a very dusty hardback.

"Look at this!" he exclaimed, reaching to open the cover. "I can't wait to see what—_ow_!" He withdrew his hand, and swatted at the offending something that had delivered one sharp pinch to his forearm. When he saw the spider fly back onto the ground, he was horrified. _Spider_bitten in the middle of the night? What if it was poisonous? There was no way of knowing for sure, other than to wait. He sighed and shook his arm loosely. He could still feel it, so that had to be a good sign. If in the time frame it took him to walk back home, something changed, he would simply go to Mercedes and tell her a spider had been hiding under his pillow. It wasn't as though he getting bitten by assorted insects would come as any sort of shock to her, after all. She was used to it.

"Come on," he whispered, tucking the book under his uninjured arm and rising to leave. The faerie hovered over the bitten area and placed both hands upon it, glowing brightly. Before he could react, the pain had stopped.

"Thank you," he said, reaching to pat it gently. "That helps a lot." With that, they finished the walk to the house in relative quiet. Mateo was able to get up onto the branch of the tree near his window and scurry along the side of those house, using handholds and footholds he came up with on the spot. Once he had wiggled into his half-open window, he leaped back into bed and waited to be sure no one had heard him coming.

When he was certain his arrival had gone unnoticed, Mateo eased the book out from under his covers and turned up his lamp gently. He used one of his blankets to wipe off the front, trying to make out a title. It was difficult in that lighting, so he turned the lamp up more and opened the book. The faerie had nudged itself into a comfortable space to be able to observe what was in it, and seemed just as eager as he was.

"It's empty," he whispered in disbelief. He turned to the creature on his left and repeated, "It's totally empty. What was the point of that if—?"

He was cut short when the faerie actually slapped him lightly on the shoulder and pointed again.

"_Whoa_," he breathed upon seeing words literally flowing onto the page. Pictures drew themselves in the darkest ink, and columns of writing appeared out of nowhere. It was some sort of guide, that much he was sure of. Awed, he flipped through the pages, reading about the various things it explained.

_Magical creatures._

_Mandrakes.  
Mazes._

_Minotaurs._

_Moanna._

Mateo stopped dead on that page. Moanna, that princess Pan had been talking about, was in this book.

"Is this what I'm supposed to be reading about?" he asked, already scanning the information. It covered all of what Pan told him, but his eyes stopped at the part where she was living as a girl named Ofelia. Brightly colored pictures of her came and went, going about her life.

Her looking over her shoulder at a strangely-shaped scar.

Her reaching under a bed to feed what looked like a mandrake root nested in a bowl.

Her desperately trying to draw on an earthen ceiling with some kind of magical chalk.

Her cradling a baby in her arms.

"Who is that?" he whispered, trying to get a closer look. The text inverted itself and spun back as a whole new paragraph. He eagerly read the sentences out loud.

_"Before Ofelia was killed, she was known to have had one brother, one surviving brother whom she died to protect. Seen here with baby Mateo, Ofelia watches over him carefully as always."_

Mateo felt his breath catch and read it one more time to be sure he wasn't mistaken.

The last thing he remembered was echoing the same two sentences, over and over.


End file.
